Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
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- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
It was a quiet day at the engineering works. Al sat at the precision work bench, stripping, cleaning and reassembling an SU carburettor from a Rover V8. The air conditioning was on, keeping the air in the old industrial building fresh on this fine Summer morning, and the bright light coming in through the skylights added to the cheery radiance of the overhead lighting. The Moody Blues played on the shop's audio system at a volume not quite loud enough to stun a water buffalo.
In short, all was tranquility and bliss. This is the type of situation that never lasts.
Over in the utility corner of the building, a red light labeled "SEWAGE IMPELLER FAULT" started to flash, and a strident buzzer added its din to the music in the shop. The light continued to flash while Al, cursing fluently in a mixture of languages, wiped the whale oil from his hands, limped over and slammed the warning cutoff switch. The din of the buzzer was silenced at the same time, and a few further steps silenced the psychedelia issuing from the audio system.
Turning and walking into the storage room, Al walked up to a hulking, rusty storage cabinet and touched a concealed catch. The cabinet slid aside on concealed rollers, revealing a door not unlike an airlock in a contagion ward. A palmprint opened that, then Al stepped through and the door closed. A repeat of this motion opened the second door into a workshop.
Here, there were no skylights, and the walls were covered in sheathing appropriate to a grade 100 clean room. Indirect lighting gave a shadowless illumination over equipment more appropriate to a bacteriological warfare lab than a machine shop. A light blinked on a screen at a desk in the corner, accompanied by REM's tune "It's The End Of The World As We Know It".
Limping over to the desk and settling into the fiberglass chair behind it, Al punched a button on the screen and barked "OK, what the hell did you morons blow up now?"
The MIB operative on the other side of the connection was completely unfazed by this direct approach, and replied "Agent Geezer, we have a little job for you."
"Geezer? Look, you cretin, first off I am NOT one of your agents. Secondly, I warned you not to call me that. Do you really want to find a lump of plutonium in your shorts? I can arrange this." Al's smile totally belied the seriousness of his words, and the dark-suited agent on the other side of the connection smiled and said, "Al, you never change. How's it going? "
"Not too bad. What do you have for me?"
"Got a weirdie. A routine satellite scan showed neutrino and secondary nuclear radiation consistent with a domestic Lanthan powercell emanating from the area of Wheeling, West Virginia. Ground investigation found a device on the shelf in a junk shop there, labeled as a 1950s television remote control. We acquired it and it's on its way to you now. Should be there in a few minutes."
"OK - good to know. Tell your agents to use the back door - I'm not equipped to handle Lanthan tech in the main shop. This way they can bring it straight into the back shop - I can handle it safely there. One question - if you lot have this thing snagged and bagged, why bring it to me and not one of your main labs at Dugway or Aberdeen?
The young agent's face grew serious at this question. "I told you this one was a weirdie. Previous scans of the area had not shown any of the radiation characteristics even though the item had been in the shop for months if not years. The crew who picked it up popped it into a shielded container - a standard lead-lined Haliburton - that had monitoring instrumentation. They realized on the way to Nevada that the output of this device was going up - and not slowly. Obviously something's degenerating that is going to need to be dealt with and quickly. You were the closest facility that had the equipment and skills to deal with it."
"You do realize I'm in the middle of a metropolitan area here, right? This is not good. Not good at all."
"We would not have involved you if we'd had any other choice. You're the last hope we have on this. You've got any help we can give - the agents have been told to work with you to get this thing dealt with."
Al sobered at the last words. Lanthan technology - especially the dregs of it that have washed up after all this time - were never in good shape, but were usually long dead. From the sound of things this was still live, and in the process of breaking down. That breakdown did not bode well, as the Lanthans were wildly unconcerned with safety circuits or fail-safe mechanisms. Given that a typical Lanthan power cell had a 50-kiloton yield or thereabouts if triggered catastrophically...this could turn out to be a bad day.
In short, all was tranquility and bliss. This is the type of situation that never lasts.
Over in the utility corner of the building, a red light labeled "SEWAGE IMPELLER FAULT" started to flash, and a strident buzzer added its din to the music in the shop. The light continued to flash while Al, cursing fluently in a mixture of languages, wiped the whale oil from his hands, limped over and slammed the warning cutoff switch. The din of the buzzer was silenced at the same time, and a few further steps silenced the psychedelia issuing from the audio system.
Turning and walking into the storage room, Al walked up to a hulking, rusty storage cabinet and touched a concealed catch. The cabinet slid aside on concealed rollers, revealing a door not unlike an airlock in a contagion ward. A palmprint opened that, then Al stepped through and the door closed. A repeat of this motion opened the second door into a workshop.
Here, there were no skylights, and the walls were covered in sheathing appropriate to a grade 100 clean room. Indirect lighting gave a shadowless illumination over equipment more appropriate to a bacteriological warfare lab than a machine shop. A light blinked on a screen at a desk in the corner, accompanied by REM's tune "It's The End Of The World As We Know It".
Limping over to the desk and settling into the fiberglass chair behind it, Al punched a button on the screen and barked "OK, what the hell did you morons blow up now?"
The MIB operative on the other side of the connection was completely unfazed by this direct approach, and replied "Agent Geezer, we have a little job for you."
"Geezer? Look, you cretin, first off I am NOT one of your agents. Secondly, I warned you not to call me that. Do you really want to find a lump of plutonium in your shorts? I can arrange this." Al's smile totally belied the seriousness of his words, and the dark-suited agent on the other side of the connection smiled and said, "Al, you never change. How's it going? "
"Not too bad. What do you have for me?"
"Got a weirdie. A routine satellite scan showed neutrino and secondary nuclear radiation consistent with a domestic Lanthan powercell emanating from the area of Wheeling, West Virginia. Ground investigation found a device on the shelf in a junk shop there, labeled as a 1950s television remote control. We acquired it and it's on its way to you now. Should be there in a few minutes."
"OK - good to know. Tell your agents to use the back door - I'm not equipped to handle Lanthan tech in the main shop. This way they can bring it straight into the back shop - I can handle it safely there. One question - if you lot have this thing snagged and bagged, why bring it to me and not one of your main labs at Dugway or Aberdeen?
The young agent's face grew serious at this question. "I told you this one was a weirdie. Previous scans of the area had not shown any of the radiation characteristics even though the item had been in the shop for months if not years. The crew who picked it up popped it into a shielded container - a standard lead-lined Haliburton - that had monitoring instrumentation. They realized on the way to Nevada that the output of this device was going up - and not slowly. Obviously something's degenerating that is going to need to be dealt with and quickly. You were the closest facility that had the equipment and skills to deal with it."
"You do realize I'm in the middle of a metropolitan area here, right? This is not good. Not good at all."
"We would not have involved you if we'd had any other choice. You're the last hope we have on this. You've got any help we can give - the agents have been told to work with you to get this thing dealt with."
Al sobered at the last words. Lanthan technology - especially the dregs of it that have washed up after all this time - were never in good shape, but were usually long dead. From the sound of things this was still live, and in the process of breaking down. That breakdown did not bode well, as the Lanthans were wildly unconcerned with safety circuits or fail-safe mechanisms. Given that a typical Lanthan power cell had a 50-kiloton yield or thereabouts if triggered catastrophically...this could turn out to be a bad day.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
A few minutes later the light over the second airlock door began to blink. Al pushed a button on the desk console, allowing the outer door to open and admitting two agents lugging a large, obviously heavy Haliburton case between them.
All business now and clad in a contamination suit with breathing mask, Al pointed to a fume-hooded bench at the center of the room. "Put it down on the floor there, then get back and suit up". Moving toward the agents with their burden, Al got ready to transfer the contents of the case to the bench.
At that moment, fate decided to step in and complicate matters.
Al stumbled, his leg betraying him unexpectedly. Unfortunately, he fell into the path of the two agents with the case, the first of which stumbled with his burden. This, governed by Newton's laws of motion, continued on its path adding a downward component and speed to its motion.
It landed on Al's left radius and ulna, greenstick fracturing both at approximately mid-forearm.
Al screamed, following that with a set of curses in five languages that could have been detected on a seismometer at a 20-kilometer radius. The agents, stunned at the sudden turn of events, lifted the case off Al's arm, setting it on the floor next to the prone, cursing man.
"DAMNIT! DAMNIT, DAMNIT, DAMNIT!" A gentle probing of the arm revealed the fractures and the subsequent uselessness of the hand attached to it. Realizing this thing was going to start to hurt like Hades in a few minutes, Al took advantage of the grace time to start reclaiming the situation.
"OK, you two. We need to coordinate this. What's the instrumentation on the case say? That bump can't have done the damn thing any good."
"Levels stable at present, though higher than we saw in transit. The bump doesn't seem to have made any difference, but this thing is decidedly not happy."
"OK, we have a few minutes with it, then. You" he said, pointing to the slight, redheaded agent, "get the first-aid kit off the wall there and we need to splint and sling me. I can get this dealt with later, but I can't have it dangling free and causing me problems."
"You,, "he continued, pointing to the other agent - a swarthy young gentleman who's complexion had gone decidedly sallow at the turn of events - " get your ass to the coffee shop 5 blocks from here called Mucho Mocha. At this time of the day you'll find a big guy called Greg at a back table . Tell him Al's pushing the panic button and get his ass here NOW. Don't give him details - he does not know about this facility - just get him here. I need a set of hands that works and he just volunteered - you guys don't have the skills."
The agents whirled into action - one heading for the first-aid kit, the other headed for the airlock door. Al yelled "Oi, You! BRING ME A COFFEE WHEN YOU COME BACK!" The agents, stunned, paused momentarily at the sheer non sequitur contained in that bellow, then continued on their assigned tasks.
Behind them, the gauges on the case crept up slightly...
All business now and clad in a contamination suit with breathing mask, Al pointed to a fume-hooded bench at the center of the room. "Put it down on the floor there, then get back and suit up". Moving toward the agents with their burden, Al got ready to transfer the contents of the case to the bench.
At that moment, fate decided to step in and complicate matters.
Al stumbled, his leg betraying him unexpectedly. Unfortunately, he fell into the path of the two agents with the case, the first of which stumbled with his burden. This, governed by Newton's laws of motion, continued on its path adding a downward component and speed to its motion.
It landed on Al's left radius and ulna, greenstick fracturing both at approximately mid-forearm.
Al screamed, following that with a set of curses in five languages that could have been detected on a seismometer at a 20-kilometer radius. The agents, stunned at the sudden turn of events, lifted the case off Al's arm, setting it on the floor next to the prone, cursing man.
"DAMNIT! DAMNIT, DAMNIT, DAMNIT!" A gentle probing of the arm revealed the fractures and the subsequent uselessness of the hand attached to it. Realizing this thing was going to start to hurt like Hades in a few minutes, Al took advantage of the grace time to start reclaiming the situation.
"OK, you two. We need to coordinate this. What's the instrumentation on the case say? That bump can't have done the damn thing any good."
"Levels stable at present, though higher than we saw in transit. The bump doesn't seem to have made any difference, but this thing is decidedly not happy."
"OK, we have a few minutes with it, then. You" he said, pointing to the slight, redheaded agent, "get the first-aid kit off the wall there and we need to splint and sling me. I can get this dealt with later, but I can't have it dangling free and causing me problems."
"You,, "he continued, pointing to the other agent - a swarthy young gentleman who's complexion had gone decidedly sallow at the turn of events - " get your ass to the coffee shop 5 blocks from here called Mucho Mocha. At this time of the day you'll find a big guy called Greg at a back table . Tell him Al's pushing the panic button and get his ass here NOW. Don't give him details - he does not know about this facility - just get him here. I need a set of hands that works and he just volunteered - you guys don't have the skills."
The agents whirled into action - one heading for the first-aid kit, the other headed for the airlock door. Al yelled "Oi, You! BRING ME A COFFEE WHEN YOU COME BACK!" The agents, stunned, paused momentarily at the sheer non sequitur contained in that bellow, then continued on their assigned tasks.
Behind them, the gauges on the case crept up slightly...
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
The agent steamed into Mucho Mocha under full draft and made a beeline to the back tables. He walked up to the pair there and asked "Which one of you is Greg?"
The battered veteran of more than a few conflicts looked up and said, "Who's asking, sonny?"
Utterly unconcerned, the agent said "Al's pushing the panic button - he told me to tell you this in exactly those words. He's got a problem he needs you to handle - I don't have any more details." he completed, fibbing to save any further explanation.
" Geez, Greg, isn't that the old Brit car guy? He doesn't seem like the type to panic over anything - this could be rough."
"Rough doesn't even come close to it. I'd better see what's going on. TINA! GIVE ME AN AL SPECIAL TO GO IN A HURRY, PLEASE!"
Tina looked up, shocked at the breach of decorum, but spun into action to comply spurred on by the sudden change in Greg's aura. Something ungood was going on and she wasn't going to delay him more than a few seconds.
The agent, thoroughly nonplussed, asked "How did you know he demanded coffee?"
"This is Al - caffeine fueled does not even begin to describe it. It would take Armageddon to put Al off his coffee."
"It may come to that..." the agent mumbled, a remark caught by but not commented on by the men at the table,
Coffee procured, the two men sprinted to the car and sped the few blocks to the shop, then past it. Turning into the parking lot at the next intersection, they bailed out of the car, heading for the door in the otherwise-blank wall.
"This isn't the entrance to the shop - we passed it!" Greg complained, as they headed for the door.
"This is a side entrance - Al doesn't advertise it. There's a reason for it- you'll see in a minute."
Greg held his silence (a rare thing) , even more mystified at the airlock assembly and the implications of its existence. As they emerged into the secure workshop he let out a low whistle.
"So THIS is what you're up to back here. Couldn't just retire, huh? Who are these guys - NSA?"
Al, by now with his arm in a splint and sling, replied "Look, Greg, there's a lot of things going on here that I don't want to get into right now. We are under some serious time pressure to deal with a degenerating situation. I just got winged and can't use my left hand - I need a set of smart machine-savvy hands to help me with a really nasty situation involving some ancient technology that's about to make a big nasty mess. Are you in?"
As an answer Greg popped the lid on the coffee container and handed it to Al, following that with "OK, what do you need me to do?"
"Damn, you're good. The Eagles always did pull in good men - and that never changes." Al turned to the two agents, standing off to the side and nervously following the exchange.
"OK, you two get the hell out of here. You've done your part getting it here - just head out and away as fast as you can." Al handed the agents a USB stick. "This is the notes I've been able to collect on the device as it sits in the case - hang onto it and it may help with the next one if we can't solve this one." The two agents, pale and concerned, took the data and left after making sure that they could not be of service.
"Those notes are useless - you just wanted them out of here. Nice of you to do."
"Hell, that's two less potential casualties - there wasn't anything they could have done for us that we and my computers can't handle. OK, let's get this thing out of the box and get at it."
In a few sentences Al brought Greg up to speed on the details of the situation. Greg's reaction went from incredulity, to anger over the stupidity of bringing it to a populated area, to grim determination to prevent the consequences. Suited up as Al was, Greg opened the case and removed the object, setting it on the table's surface.
It was a small object, no more than 35 millimeters in diameter. Cylindrical and tapering to a blunted point on one end, the controls and indicators on the other end were the only things that marked its shiny silvery surface. It weighed no more than a few ounces, but Greg handled it like a vial of fulminate of mercury.
With its exit from the case, the systems in the lab went mad. The counters showed low levels of ionizing radiation and a distinct electrostatic nimbus around the device.
Greg and Al stared at it, lying there on a square of insulating plastic on the bench top.
Al broke the silence.
"We need to figure out what this thing is, and what it does. Once we do that we can figure out how to disarm it. The problem is - the folks who built this thing used a standard energy conversion design in any kind of device that required power - and that included explosive devices. Their stuff is suicidally dangerous - in essence any kind of a powered device they build had the potential of becoming a nuclear bomb."
"So, no matter what this thing is or did originally - it's a bomb?"
"Aye, lad. No matter what it was designed to do we're potentially buggered."
"OK, so it's got to be some kind of a munition. The controls on the bottom point to a determined-yield device - they could dial it up or down depending on the desired effect. We're probably missing a sabot that went over the controls."
"Don't think so. I think what we're dealing with here given the outer surface finish is a fusion lens. Given their technologies I get a feeling that the controls are for focusing the energy contained in the device to a pinpoint - an array of these could be used for imploding hydrogen..."
"No, not right. It's got to be some kind of a munition - otherwise why would it have a full metal jacket and streamlining? You have to..."
"Damnit, listen up - I know more about this stuff than you do. It's got to be nuclear..."
"Nuclear, hell!" Greg, his temper not sanguine at the best of times, slammed his hand down on the bench. This slight vibration was enough to set the device under discussion rolling toward the edge of the bench. With a shout, Greg dove for it, his fingers missing it by millimeters...
...as it rolled off the bench and to the floor.
The battered veteran of more than a few conflicts looked up and said, "Who's asking, sonny?"
Utterly unconcerned, the agent said "Al's pushing the panic button - he told me to tell you this in exactly those words. He's got a problem he needs you to handle - I don't have any more details." he completed, fibbing to save any further explanation.
" Geez, Greg, isn't that the old Brit car guy? He doesn't seem like the type to panic over anything - this could be rough."
"Rough doesn't even come close to it. I'd better see what's going on. TINA! GIVE ME AN AL SPECIAL TO GO IN A HURRY, PLEASE!"
Tina looked up, shocked at the breach of decorum, but spun into action to comply spurred on by the sudden change in Greg's aura. Something ungood was going on and she wasn't going to delay him more than a few seconds.
The agent, thoroughly nonplussed, asked "How did you know he demanded coffee?"
"This is Al - caffeine fueled does not even begin to describe it. It would take Armageddon to put Al off his coffee."
"It may come to that..." the agent mumbled, a remark caught by but not commented on by the men at the table,
Coffee procured, the two men sprinted to the car and sped the few blocks to the shop, then past it. Turning into the parking lot at the next intersection, they bailed out of the car, heading for the door in the otherwise-blank wall.
"This isn't the entrance to the shop - we passed it!" Greg complained, as they headed for the door.
"This is a side entrance - Al doesn't advertise it. There's a reason for it- you'll see in a minute."
Greg held his silence (a rare thing) , even more mystified at the airlock assembly and the implications of its existence. As they emerged into the secure workshop he let out a low whistle.
"So THIS is what you're up to back here. Couldn't just retire, huh? Who are these guys - NSA?"
Al, by now with his arm in a splint and sling, replied "Look, Greg, there's a lot of things going on here that I don't want to get into right now. We are under some serious time pressure to deal with a degenerating situation. I just got winged and can't use my left hand - I need a set of smart machine-savvy hands to help me with a really nasty situation involving some ancient technology that's about to make a big nasty mess. Are you in?"
As an answer Greg popped the lid on the coffee container and handed it to Al, following that with "OK, what do you need me to do?"
"Damn, you're good. The Eagles always did pull in good men - and that never changes." Al turned to the two agents, standing off to the side and nervously following the exchange.
"OK, you two get the hell out of here. You've done your part getting it here - just head out and away as fast as you can." Al handed the agents a USB stick. "This is the notes I've been able to collect on the device as it sits in the case - hang onto it and it may help with the next one if we can't solve this one." The two agents, pale and concerned, took the data and left after making sure that they could not be of service.
"Those notes are useless - you just wanted them out of here. Nice of you to do."
"Hell, that's two less potential casualties - there wasn't anything they could have done for us that we and my computers can't handle. OK, let's get this thing out of the box and get at it."
In a few sentences Al brought Greg up to speed on the details of the situation. Greg's reaction went from incredulity, to anger over the stupidity of bringing it to a populated area, to grim determination to prevent the consequences. Suited up as Al was, Greg opened the case and removed the object, setting it on the table's surface.
It was a small object, no more than 35 millimeters in diameter. Cylindrical and tapering to a blunted point on one end, the controls and indicators on the other end were the only things that marked its shiny silvery surface. It weighed no more than a few ounces, but Greg handled it like a vial of fulminate of mercury.
With its exit from the case, the systems in the lab went mad. The counters showed low levels of ionizing radiation and a distinct electrostatic nimbus around the device.
Greg and Al stared at it, lying there on a square of insulating plastic on the bench top.
Al broke the silence.
"We need to figure out what this thing is, and what it does. Once we do that we can figure out how to disarm it. The problem is - the folks who built this thing used a standard energy conversion design in any kind of device that required power - and that included explosive devices. Their stuff is suicidally dangerous - in essence any kind of a powered device they build had the potential of becoming a nuclear bomb."
"So, no matter what this thing is or did originally - it's a bomb?"
"Aye, lad. No matter what it was designed to do we're potentially buggered."
"OK, so it's got to be some kind of a munition. The controls on the bottom point to a determined-yield device - they could dial it up or down depending on the desired effect. We're probably missing a sabot that went over the controls."
"Don't think so. I think what we're dealing with here given the outer surface finish is a fusion lens. Given their technologies I get a feeling that the controls are for focusing the energy contained in the device to a pinpoint - an array of these could be used for imploding hydrogen..."
"No, not right. It's got to be some kind of a munition - otherwise why would it have a full metal jacket and streamlining? You have to..."
"Damnit, listen up - I know more about this stuff than you do. It's got to be nuclear..."
"Nuclear, hell!" Greg, his temper not sanguine at the best of times, slammed his hand down on the bench. This slight vibration was enough to set the device under discussion rolling toward the edge of the bench. With a shout, Greg dove for it, his fingers missing it by millimeters...
...as it rolled off the bench and to the floor.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Greg saw his life flash before his eyes as the object fell end over end onto the concrete. Al had a cold sweat rolling down his face before it hit. There was not even enough time for a decent profanity, something that both men sensed and sincerely regretted. The light glimmered off the odd, textured surface as it fell, accentuating the pattern thereof. Al and Greg, both mesmerized, saw it as if in slow motion... certain that they had breathed their last.
And it hit the concrete.
There was a click, a snap... and a growling buzz. A pulsing, continuing buzz. As they both watched, the object actually throbbed, twisted slightly and expanded and contracted in rhythm with the pulse of the buzz. Color returned to both men's faces as they studied the object in question, perfectly perplexed.
Then came a light of dawning to Greg- he snickered. He snorted. He went into giggles while Al looked at him to see if he had gone mad. Just as Al made the connection, Greg went into hysterics, keeled over and started thrashing on the floor with loud peals of laughter. Soon both men were paralyzed by waves of gut-wrenching laughter as they came to understand they (and the MIB) had been terrorized by a thermo-nuclear powered marital aid.
It was at least a good half hour before either fellow had enough sensibilities on board for rational speech. Still giggling and hiccupping, Greg got up and attempted to test the inside of the suit for dryness- still good, he concluded. Al needed help as he had collapsed in such a way that between his game arm, the suit and his bad leg, he could not get off the floor ... Greg offered his hand, which Al took. Shaking his head, still snerking and snorting, Al commented,
"There... there (hahahah)... there must have been some ... (SNORT) leak... in the containment field... and here ... (SNERK) here I thought these things were (he bellowed out this last part) IMPERVIOUSE TO BODILY SECRETIONS!!!"
Both men near fell down again with laughter.
And it hit the concrete.
There was a click, a snap... and a growling buzz. A pulsing, continuing buzz. As they both watched, the object actually throbbed, twisted slightly and expanded and contracted in rhythm with the pulse of the buzz. Color returned to both men's faces as they studied the object in question, perfectly perplexed.
Then came a light of dawning to Greg- he snickered. He snorted. He went into giggles while Al looked at him to see if he had gone mad. Just as Al made the connection, Greg went into hysterics, keeled over and started thrashing on the floor with loud peals of laughter. Soon both men were paralyzed by waves of gut-wrenching laughter as they came to understand they (and the MIB) had been terrorized by a thermo-nuclear powered marital aid.
It was at least a good half hour before either fellow had enough sensibilities on board for rational speech. Still giggling and hiccupping, Greg got up and attempted to test the inside of the suit for dryness- still good, he concluded. Al needed help as he had collapsed in such a way that between his game arm, the suit and his bad leg, he could not get off the floor ... Greg offered his hand, which Al took. Shaking his head, still snerking and snorting, Al commented,
"There... there (hahahah)... there must have been some ... (SNORT) leak... in the containment field... and here ... (SNERK) here I thought these things were (he bellowed out this last part) IMPERVIOUSE TO BODILY SECRETIONS!!!"
Both men near fell down again with laughter.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
It was much later that afternoon that Al and Greg were able to find and seal the leak- it seems the Lanthians were able to synthesize a flexible form of mica, which they used in conjunction with a crystalline lead foil to contain the radiation. Further efforts showed how the radiation was controlled by the three graphite rods attached directly to the dials on the back... somehow, the Lanthians had learned how to translate radiation DIRECTLY into kinetic energy... a process that if reverse engineered, could provide a sizable income to the two men... assuming they could agree how to utilize it...
... and a MIGHTY big assumption that might be...
... and a MIGHTY big assumption that might be...
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- Hansontoons
- Posts: 998
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 9:22 pm
- Location: Houston, TX
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Hansontoons, AKA "Dances With Chairs", was striding down Dutch Elm St. on a cooling September day while idly running through various bookmarks on his cellphone. "Whoa, what's this on Wapsi?" he said to no one in particular and drifted to a stop. Glancing at his orange-faced Doxa watch, he nodded and shrugged his shoulders as he set the phone on the low granite stone wall next to the walkway and dropped his 1943 issue USMC canvas knapsack to the ground. Fumbling with the straps as usual, he managed to get the pack open without too many blue remarks and reached in. First out was a tan canvas folding chair that he shook open and situated in a spot of handy shade. Turning back to the pack he reached in with both hands and pulled out a olive-drab Mermite container to which he gave a short shake. Satisfied with the sound, he moved back to the chair and sat down while setting the container directly in front of him. Popping the latches and pushing the lid over, he pushed his right hand into the ice and came out with a bottle of New Belgium 1554. "It'll do..." he muttered while pulling a walnut (Iowa black) handled bottle opener from a handy pocket on the chair. The top was popped and directed towards the open pack. "Two!" 'Toons called out and then reached back for the 'phone waiting patiently on the wall. Leaning back into the chair, he takes a satisfying pull on the bottle and starts tapping his thumb agains the 'phone. "Hmm, Al and Greg playing off each other's story, this'ns gonna be good!" he says as he settles a little deeper into the chair...
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
There were days Al hated being left-handed - and dealing with a broken arm was many of them.
Cursing fluently, he swung a patterning scanner into place over the Lanthan Rabbit (as they'd taken to calling it over the past few days). Held in clamps on the work surface, it still gleamed dully, taunting him with its secrets while presenting its innocuous surface to the world.
With a few pressings (they'd figured out the pattern by now) he activated the Rabbit, watching it do its party trick in the yielding clamps. Such power, such impermeability...and not a godsdamned clue as to how the damn thing actually managed to convert radiation to motion and flexing.
Flexing...waitaminute...damn. Lost it. I hate it when that happens.
Al scribbled (badly) a note on his ancient Motorola Xoom, then turned back to watch the scatter patterns on the screen of the scanner. There was something going on with the sheathing directly between the radiation source and the inner wall of the shielding medium...but what?
That's the problem, Al pondered. There's a lot here we do not have the background technology to even understand, never mind duplicate. If they could just get a clue of the principles, though....
Turning away from the scanner, Al grabbed his coffee mug and took a healing draft of its contents. Where the hell was Greg today? he'd gotten so used to bouncing ideas of the old soldier that working alone here in the back workshop (where there wasn't any music) was starting to get annoying.
Add to that the fact that MIB wasn't going to let them hang on to this thing forever. He was expecting a call any day now politely inquiring as to when they felt like they could release the artifact for transport?
Slapping off the scanner and poking the Rabbit into tranqulility, Al wandered disgustedly back to his desk, parking in his chair in front of the keyboard and mouse.
Screw the mouse, he thought - time to go voice activated.
"Computer"
"Working". The voice of Majel Barrett sounded back through the speakers. Al was a traditionalist - why not go for the archetype if you're going to go at all.
"Archive search. Lanthan technology. Artificial myomers - electroactive polymers and effect of radiation thereon."
The references to articles began to scroll on the screen, accompanied by another "Working", then "completed" from the speakers. He'd only begun to look at the data, pulse quickening slightly as he realized he just might be on to something.
As he read, the airlock light over the main door flashed, and the airlock opened, admitting a sweaty and slightly disgruntled Greg with a plastic cup rack holding two coffee mugs.
"It's hot out there - and the drivers in this town have NO respect for motorcyclists. I damn-near got run over at least three times before I got here - and that doesn't even count the grief of trying to maneuver and not spill the coffee. What's going on?"
"I'll tell you what's going on - I may have gotten an inkling of what the Hades makes the Rabbit dance."
"DAMN! what are you thinking?"
"OK, we know the Rabbit more-or-less converts radiation straight to mechanical motion. What if it's actually two steps - a conversion from radiation to electricity then to mechanical motion - IN THE SAME MATERIAL?"
"Take a look here. Even in conventional engineering it's been noticed that myomers are affected by radiation - they act differently when the electrical actuation is applied. What if the Lanthans came up with a way to manufacture the two components (electrical conversion or direct utilization) as part of a matrix - radiation in - wiggle out.
This thing is still an idiotic waste of technology, but Hades, that might be it."
Greg pondered for a minute, eyes hooded and thoughtful.
"It's too pat. Why the blazes would they want to bother doing that when a conventional method would be so much easier?"
"Simple. No Moving Parts."
"Oh, no...that thing's got PLENTY of moving parts...it's almost embarassing to watch!" Greg grinned, tacitly acknowledging the point.
"OK, that being said, how do we test it - or more the point figure out if it's true?"
"True. Hate to say it, but I figure the only way is we need a sample of what's under the shielding."
"Damn. I was afraid you were going to say that."
Cursing fluently, he swung a patterning scanner into place over the Lanthan Rabbit (as they'd taken to calling it over the past few days). Held in clamps on the work surface, it still gleamed dully, taunting him with its secrets while presenting its innocuous surface to the world.
With a few pressings (they'd figured out the pattern by now) he activated the Rabbit, watching it do its party trick in the yielding clamps. Such power, such impermeability...and not a godsdamned clue as to how the damn thing actually managed to convert radiation to motion and flexing.
Flexing...waitaminute...damn. Lost it. I hate it when that happens.
Al scribbled (badly) a note on his ancient Motorola Xoom, then turned back to watch the scatter patterns on the screen of the scanner. There was something going on with the sheathing directly between the radiation source and the inner wall of the shielding medium...but what?
That's the problem, Al pondered. There's a lot here we do not have the background technology to even understand, never mind duplicate. If they could just get a clue of the principles, though....
Turning away from the scanner, Al grabbed his coffee mug and took a healing draft of its contents. Where the hell was Greg today? he'd gotten so used to bouncing ideas of the old soldier that working alone here in the back workshop (where there wasn't any music) was starting to get annoying.
Add to that the fact that MIB wasn't going to let them hang on to this thing forever. He was expecting a call any day now politely inquiring as to when they felt like they could release the artifact for transport?
Slapping off the scanner and poking the Rabbit into tranqulility, Al wandered disgustedly back to his desk, parking in his chair in front of the keyboard and mouse.
Screw the mouse, he thought - time to go voice activated.
"Computer"
"Working". The voice of Majel Barrett sounded back through the speakers. Al was a traditionalist - why not go for the archetype if you're going to go at all.
"Archive search. Lanthan technology. Artificial myomers - electroactive polymers and effect of radiation thereon."
The references to articles began to scroll on the screen, accompanied by another "Working", then "completed" from the speakers. He'd only begun to look at the data, pulse quickening slightly as he realized he just might be on to something.
As he read, the airlock light over the main door flashed, and the airlock opened, admitting a sweaty and slightly disgruntled Greg with a plastic cup rack holding two coffee mugs.
"It's hot out there - and the drivers in this town have NO respect for motorcyclists. I damn-near got run over at least three times before I got here - and that doesn't even count the grief of trying to maneuver and not spill the coffee. What's going on?"
"I'll tell you what's going on - I may have gotten an inkling of what the Hades makes the Rabbit dance."
"DAMN! what are you thinking?"
"OK, we know the Rabbit more-or-less converts radiation straight to mechanical motion. What if it's actually two steps - a conversion from radiation to electricity then to mechanical motion - IN THE SAME MATERIAL?"
"Take a look here. Even in conventional engineering it's been noticed that myomers are affected by radiation - they act differently when the electrical actuation is applied. What if the Lanthans came up with a way to manufacture the two components (electrical conversion or direct utilization) as part of a matrix - radiation in - wiggle out.
This thing is still an idiotic waste of technology, but Hades, that might be it."
Greg pondered for a minute, eyes hooded and thoughtful.
"It's too pat. Why the blazes would they want to bother doing that when a conventional method would be so much easier?"
"Simple. No Moving Parts."
"Oh, no...that thing's got PLENTY of moving parts...it's almost embarassing to watch!" Greg grinned, tacitly acknowledging the point.
"OK, that being said, how do we test it - or more the point figure out if it's true?"
"True. Hate to say it, but I figure the only way is we need a sample of what's under the shielding."
"Damn. I was afraid you were going to say that."
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
"The worst part will be containment of the materials once we breach the outer sheath- I'm not certain as to the stratificaction of what's in there, but I am QUITE certain we are dealing with at least enough plutonium to achieve critical mass... jeez, all this for a 'Doc Johnson' bed toy? I'd hate to see what they used for a toothbrush," Greg muttered as he suited up and retrived the 'Rabbit' from it's box, "I suppose we ought to go in through the repair? That silicon doesn't seem to hold onto this stuff very well,"
"NOTHING holds onto that stuff very well- methyl methacrylate peals off like a loose scab... here now, give us a hand with this wretched monkey suit, would you? THERE's a good fellow..." Al rejoined, "I've got the remote set up with a ceramic blade, we can mount it on the pallet and work on the other side of the blast shield,"
Greg looked at Al- "Remote? Blast shield? Do you hear yourself? This thing is only five steps down from what we dropped on Nagasaki. Besides, there's no feedback on the remote,"
"Feedback? How do you mean?"
"You can't feel what you're cutting- there might be discernable layers of stratification that make dissection much easier, especially that outer stretchy covering... hell, we STILL don't know what that is... "
"Then, what on earth do YOU suggest for opening up the 'energizer bunny'?"
"A diamond disk on a dremel," Greg stated flatly.
"WHAT?!? Oh, well, THERE's certainly something for a 'delicate touch'!" Al sarcastically responded, "sure, a power mucker from the local five-and-dime hobby store!! Ought to give you the 'feedback' of a jackhammer!"
"Believe it or not, AL- you can be delicate with these things- AND you can feel what you are doing,"
"Yes... especially when it goes into your flesh, I assume,"
"Look Al- if this thing goes critical, we vaporise a five-block radius... that blast shield offers no protection at all. If it does a minor 'foop', it will weld up your remote tooling- that's what? seven? eight thousand you've got sunk in that device? To say nothing about the hours of work? A dremel is... I think $40 these days- and I am comfortable useing it... your call..."
The two looked at each other for a few minutes... finally Al responded, "Isn't that what the lighthouse signalled to the battleship when the latter signalled the former to get out of it's way?"
"NOTHING holds onto that stuff very well- methyl methacrylate peals off like a loose scab... here now, give us a hand with this wretched monkey suit, would you? THERE's a good fellow..." Al rejoined, "I've got the remote set up with a ceramic blade, we can mount it on the pallet and work on the other side of the blast shield,"
Greg looked at Al- "Remote? Blast shield? Do you hear yourself? This thing is only five steps down from what we dropped on Nagasaki. Besides, there's no feedback on the remote,"
"Feedback? How do you mean?"
"You can't feel what you're cutting- there might be discernable layers of stratification that make dissection much easier, especially that outer stretchy covering... hell, we STILL don't know what that is... "
"Then, what on earth do YOU suggest for opening up the 'energizer bunny'?"
"A diamond disk on a dremel," Greg stated flatly.
"WHAT?!? Oh, well, THERE's certainly something for a 'delicate touch'!" Al sarcastically responded, "sure, a power mucker from the local five-and-dime hobby store!! Ought to give you the 'feedback' of a jackhammer!"
"Believe it or not, AL- you can be delicate with these things- AND you can feel what you are doing,"
"Yes... especially when it goes into your flesh, I assume,"
"Look Al- if this thing goes critical, we vaporise a five-block radius... that blast shield offers no protection at all. If it does a minor 'foop', it will weld up your remote tooling- that's what? seven? eight thousand you've got sunk in that device? To say nothing about the hours of work? A dremel is... I think $40 these days- and I am comfortable useing it... your call..."
The two looked at each other for a few minutes... finally Al responded, "Isn't that what the lighthouse signalled to the battleship when the latter signalled the former to get out of it's way?"
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Tickling the dragon's tail - or hacking a sample off it - is always a touchy business.
"Al, I'll be fine in just the suit. Anything else is just going to slow me down and make it harder to get in and out cleanly. Really, it'll be fine."
"No, no and no. I am not going to be calling the lads in the dark suits for a cleanup when you end up glowing like a watch dial because of a mis-step. Into a containment box it goes, or we do it my way."
"You really are a paranoid old bastard, aren't you? NOTHING is going to happen...but we'll do it your way."
"Good on you. Now be a good lad and pop that thing into #3 down there, and we can get to work. I'll stay out of your face and watch via the remotes in the box. I'll be monitoring levels and particle flux as well - if this thing starts to get too hot to handle we'll know."
#3 was a squat container, with a multilayer glass/plastic shield at the front and armholes with gloves like a sandblasting cabinet. No sandblasting cabinet had ever been built so stoutly, though - its walls were an inches thick multilayer coglomeration of lead, organic plastic and steel designed to contain all but the highest levels of radiations and blast. It should sneer at the levels of radioactivity that the Rabbit contained - but Al was not taking any chances.
"Keep your suit on and your respirator - I do not trust this damn thing. Any culture dumb enough to build things like this might skimp on redudancy in shielding."
With the Rabbit loaded through the hatch and the containment unit sealed and powered up, Greg took is time mounting the Rabbit in clamps holding it with the patch upwards. The bright, shadowless light made the device look almost innocuous, belying the radioactive grief that inhabited its interior.
"Greg - humor me - try a standard blade on the outside sheath. Let's see if we can peel this thing back before you get out the diamond wheel."
"Sure. Worth a try. Not hopeful but worth a shot."
Greg selected a blade and holder from the tool rack attached to the sidewall, and with a deft flick applied it to the sheath of the Rabbit. Surprisingly the blade sank in easily to the metal underneath, and he drew a neat rectangle around the damage site. As he sliced it, however, the object reacted, moving to try and recoil from the cut.
"Damn, that thing's mobile. Looks like it's got some sense network built into the outer sheath - makes you wonder why they'd do that."
"No idea - in something that was self-repairing I can see it, but for THIS? No idea."
Selecting a pair of forceps, he removed the cut out section, setting it into a Petri dish on the right side for reapplication later.
"OK, leakage went up a good bit when you did that - looks like they went for a multilayer defense on the PU shielding in this thing. Just be careful, and be aware of what you're doing. Going to go for the Dremel now?"
"Yes, Mother. Will do, Mother. Stop nagging - you're not the only one who ever did precision work. Yep. Moving in now."
Greg picked up the rotary tool, turned it on, and appled the diamond wheel to the outer layer of the shielding. With a tooth-grinding shriek the tiny blade began to cut away the outer layer, proving its density with its resistance to cutting. With periodic cooling of the ablative wheel the shielding layer was cut to the outlines of the outer layer. Even as he cut, however, Greg could see the same reaction - the device was trying to move away from the cutter.
"Again I'm seeing movement - the device is moving away from the cutter."
"This still makes no sense - why build in that capability? I just don't get it for so simple and one qould assume cheap device."
Setting the tool aside, Greg stepped back, removed his face shield and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
"How's the radiation level?"
"High. Not happy with this. Glad we got it in the containment. The suits would have handled this, but once we go inside the cut are we'd have been buggered. I get a feeling that the PU in this thing is in a distributed form - it's not a solid section. We are going to have to be REALLY careful when we get under the shielding - I get a feeling any reconfiguration of the interior arrangement of this thing is going to cause trouble...of a kind we don't want."
"Oh bloody wonderful. Fuck - now I'm starting to sound like you. OK, let's get this over with."
Al grinned behind his shield." About time you start cursing like a gentleman. I'll civilize you yet. Soon you'll be drinking tea from a china cup with your pinky extended..."
"Extend THIS, you miserable Limey..."
"OK, OK...fight later, play with the bomb now. Remember, once that shield section comes off, Mr Lanthan Rabbit is no longer your friend."
"Greg reached in with another pair of forceps - ceramic this time - and grapsed the shield section by both sides of the cut and lifted.
"Damn thing feels adhered - it's reluctant to move though it is moving. I'm going to have to put a bit of muscle to it to get it to move."
"Hang on - let's have a look at the situation.."
Too late.
Greg Lifted, and the shield section came away. With that the Rabbit and the sensors all went nuts simultaneously. Every indicator on the back of the Rabbit lit up to intense brightness, and a glow, brightening rapidly, began to emanate from the cut-away section.
"Put it back! PUT IT BACK!"
Dropping the cut section back in had little effect - the glow, ever brightening, glared out from the cut edges of the shield section. Greg dropped a lead blanket over the Rabbit - to little effect. The sensors inside the containment box were reporting steadily climbing levels of radiation of both gamma and fast particles. The sensors outside the box reported little, but that wasn't going to help things.
"FUCK! NOW WHAT!"
"Hades, don't know. Flood the box. We've got to get this damped."
Al pulled a lever on the back of the tank, and the containment box started to fill with graphite slurry. It flowed around and over the Rabbit and its damping effect began to bring down the readings, until the slurry around the Rabbit began to boil and the gauges began to climb again.
"OK, what now?"
"What the Hades are you asking ME for? We're screwed, that's what. Near as I can tell from the gauges that thing's about 2 minutes from BOOM. We've shot our bolt."
"There's got to be something we can do!"
"Nope. Nothing is going to do much. The building structure and the initial containment with graphite will hopefully moderate the reaction, but that's it. In any case I can't move fast enough to get out."
"Well, shit."
Greg turned to Al and held out his hand. Al took and shook it, then both turned to watch the weirdly beautiful sight.The light from the containment's windows grew brighter, and brighter...
...till they went out with a resounding FOOP! The workshop shuddered briefly, a few loose items falling from shelves.
Externally #3 was unchanged. The shields that slid over the glove ports were still there, but the inside had gone dark. The glass was crazed, but with a portable light they were able to discern that other than a coating of graphite the box was empty. The graphite slurry, the lead blanket, the loose tools...all gone, as was the deadly toy. There were round gouges in the sides of the containment outlining a sphere on the inside of the box with what would have been the Rabbit at the centre.
"Where's the KABOOM? I expected an earth-shattering KABOOM..." Al quavered, knees weak as he stared at the damage to #3.
"WhAt.ThE.FuCk...just happened?" Greg asked, not even hearing Al's attempt at humor, staring at what should have been Ground Zero of the downtown Minneapolis redevopment plan.
"OK. I am not...repeat NOT sure....but it looks to me like the Lanthans were not as stupid as we thought they were. This thing had a failsafe built in. When the structure or inernals were damaged enough to promote a chain reacton of dangerous levels something took the energy and the device...elsewhere. Where, I don't know. Nor do I care."
Subsequent tests with measuring instruments showed nothing remained of the Rabbit or its deadly cargo. The background levels outside the containment were to all intents and purposes normal, though the inside on careful examination was still highly radioactive as a secondary effect of the Rabbit's meltdown.
"Al, I'll be fine in just the suit. Anything else is just going to slow me down and make it harder to get in and out cleanly. Really, it'll be fine."
"No, no and no. I am not going to be calling the lads in the dark suits for a cleanup when you end up glowing like a watch dial because of a mis-step. Into a containment box it goes, or we do it my way."
"You really are a paranoid old bastard, aren't you? NOTHING is going to happen...but we'll do it your way."
"Good on you. Now be a good lad and pop that thing into #3 down there, and we can get to work. I'll stay out of your face and watch via the remotes in the box. I'll be monitoring levels and particle flux as well - if this thing starts to get too hot to handle we'll know."
#3 was a squat container, with a multilayer glass/plastic shield at the front and armholes with gloves like a sandblasting cabinet. No sandblasting cabinet had ever been built so stoutly, though - its walls were an inches thick multilayer coglomeration of lead, organic plastic and steel designed to contain all but the highest levels of radiations and blast. It should sneer at the levels of radioactivity that the Rabbit contained - but Al was not taking any chances.
"Keep your suit on and your respirator - I do not trust this damn thing. Any culture dumb enough to build things like this might skimp on redudancy in shielding."
With the Rabbit loaded through the hatch and the containment unit sealed and powered up, Greg took is time mounting the Rabbit in clamps holding it with the patch upwards. The bright, shadowless light made the device look almost innocuous, belying the radioactive grief that inhabited its interior.
"Greg - humor me - try a standard blade on the outside sheath. Let's see if we can peel this thing back before you get out the diamond wheel."
"Sure. Worth a try. Not hopeful but worth a shot."
Greg selected a blade and holder from the tool rack attached to the sidewall, and with a deft flick applied it to the sheath of the Rabbit. Surprisingly the blade sank in easily to the metal underneath, and he drew a neat rectangle around the damage site. As he sliced it, however, the object reacted, moving to try and recoil from the cut.
"Damn, that thing's mobile. Looks like it's got some sense network built into the outer sheath - makes you wonder why they'd do that."
"No idea - in something that was self-repairing I can see it, but for THIS? No idea."
Selecting a pair of forceps, he removed the cut out section, setting it into a Petri dish on the right side for reapplication later.
"OK, leakage went up a good bit when you did that - looks like they went for a multilayer defense on the PU shielding in this thing. Just be careful, and be aware of what you're doing. Going to go for the Dremel now?"
"Yes, Mother. Will do, Mother. Stop nagging - you're not the only one who ever did precision work. Yep. Moving in now."
Greg picked up the rotary tool, turned it on, and appled the diamond wheel to the outer layer of the shielding. With a tooth-grinding shriek the tiny blade began to cut away the outer layer, proving its density with its resistance to cutting. With periodic cooling of the ablative wheel the shielding layer was cut to the outlines of the outer layer. Even as he cut, however, Greg could see the same reaction - the device was trying to move away from the cutter.
"Again I'm seeing movement - the device is moving away from the cutter."
"This still makes no sense - why build in that capability? I just don't get it for so simple and one qould assume cheap device."
Setting the tool aside, Greg stepped back, removed his face shield and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
"How's the radiation level?"
"High. Not happy with this. Glad we got it in the containment. The suits would have handled this, but once we go inside the cut are we'd have been buggered. I get a feeling that the PU in this thing is in a distributed form - it's not a solid section. We are going to have to be REALLY careful when we get under the shielding - I get a feeling any reconfiguration of the interior arrangement of this thing is going to cause trouble...of a kind we don't want."
"Oh bloody wonderful. Fuck - now I'm starting to sound like you. OK, let's get this over with."
Al grinned behind his shield." About time you start cursing like a gentleman. I'll civilize you yet. Soon you'll be drinking tea from a china cup with your pinky extended..."
"Extend THIS, you miserable Limey..."
"OK, OK...fight later, play with the bomb now. Remember, once that shield section comes off, Mr Lanthan Rabbit is no longer your friend."
"Greg reached in with another pair of forceps - ceramic this time - and grapsed the shield section by both sides of the cut and lifted.
"Damn thing feels adhered - it's reluctant to move though it is moving. I'm going to have to put a bit of muscle to it to get it to move."
"Hang on - let's have a look at the situation.."
Too late.
Greg Lifted, and the shield section came away. With that the Rabbit and the sensors all went nuts simultaneously. Every indicator on the back of the Rabbit lit up to intense brightness, and a glow, brightening rapidly, began to emanate from the cut-away section.
"Put it back! PUT IT BACK!"
Dropping the cut section back in had little effect - the glow, ever brightening, glared out from the cut edges of the shield section. Greg dropped a lead blanket over the Rabbit - to little effect. The sensors inside the containment box were reporting steadily climbing levels of radiation of both gamma and fast particles. The sensors outside the box reported little, but that wasn't going to help things.
"FUCK! NOW WHAT!"
"Hades, don't know. Flood the box. We've got to get this damped."
Al pulled a lever on the back of the tank, and the containment box started to fill with graphite slurry. It flowed around and over the Rabbit and its damping effect began to bring down the readings, until the slurry around the Rabbit began to boil and the gauges began to climb again.
"OK, what now?"
"What the Hades are you asking ME for? We're screwed, that's what. Near as I can tell from the gauges that thing's about 2 minutes from BOOM. We've shot our bolt."
"There's got to be something we can do!"
"Nope. Nothing is going to do much. The building structure and the initial containment with graphite will hopefully moderate the reaction, but that's it. In any case I can't move fast enough to get out."
"Well, shit."
Greg turned to Al and held out his hand. Al took and shook it, then both turned to watch the weirdly beautiful sight.The light from the containment's windows grew brighter, and brighter...
...till they went out with a resounding FOOP! The workshop shuddered briefly, a few loose items falling from shelves.
Externally #3 was unchanged. The shields that slid over the glove ports were still there, but the inside had gone dark. The glass was crazed, but with a portable light they were able to discern that other than a coating of graphite the box was empty. The graphite slurry, the lead blanket, the loose tools...all gone, as was the deadly toy. There were round gouges in the sides of the containment outlining a sphere on the inside of the box with what would have been the Rabbit at the centre.
"Where's the KABOOM? I expected an earth-shattering KABOOM..." Al quavered, knees weak as he stared at the damage to #3.
"WhAt.ThE.FuCk...just happened?" Greg asked, not even hearing Al's attempt at humor, staring at what should have been Ground Zero of the downtown Minneapolis redevopment plan.
"OK. I am not...repeat NOT sure....but it looks to me like the Lanthans were not as stupid as we thought they were. This thing had a failsafe built in. When the structure or inernals were damaged enough to promote a chain reacton of dangerous levels something took the energy and the device...elsewhere. Where, I don't know. Nor do I care."
Subsequent tests with measuring instruments showed nothing remained of the Rabbit or its deadly cargo. The background levels outside the containment were to all intents and purposes normal, though the inside on careful examination was still highly radioactive as a secondary effect of the Rabbit's meltdown.
Last edited by Just Old Al on Fri Sep 18, 2015 6:47 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Several days later, all had returned to more-or-less normal.
MIB had come and taken away the unhappy remains of #3, and the supervisor had read the riot act to the hapless pair for even consideirng doing work of that level in a populated area. Al was threatened with loss of his contract with the organization (at which he yawned) and both were warned not be be caught driving potential tactical nuclear bombs around this neighborhood again.
With the outer wall of the secure workshop under reconstruction (as #3's remains were way too large to go out the door) Greg and Al, cups of Mucho Mocha's finest in hand, were in the conventional workshop. Procol Harum was on the stereo at a level permitting conversation, and the two were debriefing each other over recent events.
"Oh, well. Would'a been nice if we could have figured out what the tranform was on the power, but you can't win 'em all."
"We have hints. I'm not going to let it go - there's not a lot of expense there for the materials and setups to play with it, so who knows - might get lucky."
With that, Greg got up, started for the door, and then stopped and turned.
"So, what else you got going on?"
MIB had come and taken away the unhappy remains of #3, and the supervisor had read the riot act to the hapless pair for even consideirng doing work of that level in a populated area. Al was threatened with loss of his contract with the organization (at which he yawned) and both were warned not be be caught driving potential tactical nuclear bombs around this neighborhood again.
With the outer wall of the secure workshop under reconstruction (as #3's remains were way too large to go out the door) Greg and Al, cups of Mucho Mocha's finest in hand, were in the conventional workshop. Procol Harum was on the stereo at a level permitting conversation, and the two were debriefing each other over recent events.
"Oh, well. Would'a been nice if we could have figured out what the tranform was on the power, but you can't win 'em all."
"We have hints. I'm not going to let it go - there's not a lot of expense there for the materials and setups to play with it, so who knows - might get lucky."
With that, Greg got up, started for the door, and then stopped and turned.
"So, what else you got going on?"
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- jwhouk
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
I only pray neither of them run into Mayahuel.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
- Just Old Al
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Don't tempt me.jwhouk wrote:I only pray neither of them run into Mayahuel.
The one that would make for a true cluster of black hole proportions would be Tsillah's mom.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Sgt. Howard
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
... but we could have a grand time messing with Nudge's head- I suspect the two of us would dislike her instinctively and consider her fair game- whatcha think, Al? We might have her outmatched?Just Old Al wrote:Don't tempt me.jwhouk wrote:I only pray neither of them run into Mayahuel.
The one that would make for a true cluster of black hole proportions would be Tsillah's mom.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- jwhouk
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
The next day you two drop in to Tina's, she hands you a USB stick with a note:
"Just in case you need this. Enjoy! - JH"
When you pull it up on a PC, you discover it's a relatively small thumb drive - but full of various recipes for goat.
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/icon_e_wink.gif)
"Just in case you need this. Enjoy! - JH"
When you pull it up on a PC, you discover it's a relatively small thumb drive - but full of various recipes for goat.
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/icon_e_wink.gif)
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
- Just Old Al
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Re: Goats of varios flavours:
You guys are bad for me. Never meddle in the affairs of immortals, for you are crunchy and good with brown sauce.
Hell, I'm in. It's got to be an interesting vacation from changing the oil in carburettor dashpots.
Hang on to that thumb drive JH, I'll need it. I'm a damn good cook, and roasted goat would be a nice change of pace from passenger pigeon and bald eagle ragout.
You guys are bad for me. Never meddle in the affairs of immortals, for you are crunchy and good with brown sauce.
Hell, I'm in. It's got to be an interesting vacation from changing the oil in carburettor dashpots.
Hang on to that thumb drive JH, I'll need it. I'm a damn good cook, and roasted goat would be a nice change of pace from passenger pigeon and bald eagle ragout.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
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Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
If you wrap the eagle in bacon, it doesn't get near so dry...Just Old Al wrote:Re: Goats of varios flavours:
You guys are bad for me. Never meddle in the affairs of immortals, for you are crunchy and good with brown sauce.
Hell, I'm in. It's got to be an interesting vacation from changing the oil in carburettor dashpots.
Hang on to that thumb drive JH, I'll need it. I'm a damn good cook, and roasted goat would be a nice change of pace from passenger pigeon and bald eagle ragout.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Anna, who is the love of my life, has at least ten more recipes for goat... having raised then for meat and milk. Whatcha think of the artwork as a cover, Al?
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Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
- Just Old Al
- Posts: 1684
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 4:43 am
- Location: Wilderness of Massachusetts
- Contact:
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Works for me and I'm fussy.Sgt. Howard wrote:Anna, who is the love of my life, has at least ten more recipes for goat... having raised then for meat and milk. Whatcha think of the artwork as a cover, Al?
![Smile :)](./images/smilies/icon_e_smile.gif)
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
- lake_wrangler
- Posts: 4300
- Joined: Sun Aug 05, 2012 8:16 am
- Location: Laval, Québec, Canada
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
THREAD NECROMANCY, AWAY!
Having been directed here from a recent daily thread where it was suggested Al and Greg visit Paul to set him up with an alternate power source, and a link was provided to explain what we meant by "a Rabbit", I found myself re-reading this thread, all while watching the 1986 movie Solarbabies on my computer... the contrast was rather amusing: while Al and Greg were taking all the precautions they could think of, in the movie, they were trying to pierce through an orb's outer shield, to get to it's inside marshmallow goodness (I may have embellished that part a bit...)...
It was like: OK, let's bring in this robot that is programmed to enjoy giving pain, and let's watch it do its job on the orb, while standing next to it, with no shielding whatsoever. That way, when the cobalt bit overheats and blows to smithereens, we get the chance to dodge fiery bits everywhere!
I was also thinking that all the control panels must have been constructed by the same people who built the Ford Pintos... just falling on a control panel would cause it to explode in a shower of sparks...
That whole destruction/wreckage/let's blow this joint before it blows us up scene was just so over the top, just so ridiculous, that it was hilarious.
Seriously, they should do a "Everything that's wrong with Solarbabies in under 15 minutes" video on YouTube...
So I got to watch a mostly entertaining movie, with over the top technical parts, while contrasting it with a story about a nuclear powered Lanthian marital aid device... I couldn't ask for more!
Having been directed here from a recent daily thread where it was suggested Al and Greg visit Paul to set him up with an alternate power source, and a link was provided to explain what we meant by "a Rabbit", I found myself re-reading this thread, all while watching the 1986 movie Solarbabies on my computer... the contrast was rather amusing: while Al and Greg were taking all the precautions they could think of, in the movie, they were trying to pierce through an orb's outer shield, to get to it's inside marshmallow goodness (I may have embellished that part a bit...)...
It was like: OK, let's bring in this robot that is programmed to enjoy giving pain, and let's watch it do its job on the orb, while standing next to it, with no shielding whatsoever. That way, when the cobalt bit overheats and blows to smithereens, we get the chance to dodge fiery bits everywhere!
I was also thinking that all the control panels must have been constructed by the same people who built the Ford Pintos... just falling on a control panel would cause it to explode in a shower of sparks...
![Laughing :lol:](./images/smilies/icon_lol.gif)
That whole destruction/wreckage/let's blow this joint before it blows us up scene was just so over the top, just so ridiculous, that it was hilarious.
Seriously, they should do a "Everything that's wrong with Solarbabies in under 15 minutes" video on YouTube...
So I got to watch a mostly entertaining movie, with over the top technical parts, while contrasting it with a story about a nuclear powered Lanthian marital aid device... I couldn't ask for more!
- lake_wrangler
- Posts: 4300
- Joined: Sun Aug 05, 2012 8:16 am
- Location: Laval, Québec, Canada
Re: Another Day At The Works, or Two Sergeants And A Mystery
Oh, and look at what I found on the Hammocks forum, on the subject of thread necromancy: